


Cold Sleep, Warm Wake (NICK AMARO)

by RockWithItWriting



Category: Law & Order: SVU, Law & Order: Special Victims Unit RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 15:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7939582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting/pseuds/RockWithItWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>requested by @/draconisglow: here is my request: Nick Amaro x reader - A/B/O + Huddling for warmth/sharing body heat.</p><p>word count: 864</p><p>warnings: i may have gotten a timeline fucked, idk if when nick told gil that gil is his son if he was still with maria? but um. not in this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Sleep, Warm Wake (NICK AMARO)

The hotel room was nice and toasty when you went to sleep, your partner Nick, in the other bed.

When you woke, however, it was not toasty. Your omega body was more prone to cold than, say, a beta or an alpha- both of which got hot too easily.

For several minutes after the cold woke you, you were shivering under the covers, listening to Nick’s soft breathing and the way his skin sounded as it ruffled against the covers. You had to admit, you could imagine the way the strong planes of his body were emanating warmth but it just made you colder, made you yearn for Nick’s body- which you had felt, four heats prior- but that would be crossing a line.

(As if that line wasn’t already blurred by your compatibility and the way his scent was intoxicating, nearly invisible when you remembered the noises he made above you months ago…)

You weren’t sure when Nick woke up, maybe he had finally gotten cold, but your teeth were chattering and your bed was shaking with the tremors in your body. Nick rose and you tried to still yourself, as if he didn’t feel the cold on his bare chest and bare thighs, but he just scoffed and leaned over you, that scent wafting to your nose as you instinctively curled toward the heat of his body.

“Are you cold, little omega?” He cooed. You half-glared up at him and reached out to press chilled fingers to his hips, where his boxers hung low.

“F-fuck you, N-ick.” You tried to sound brave and strong but your voice was a brittle as the ice on your body. (Or, the ice you thought was on your body.) Nick just smiled and peeled back your comforter, earning a near screech from you, and he rolled into your bed, pressing his legs close to yours and wrapping you in his wiry, strong arms. You sighed in relief and pressed iced fingers to his chest, just below each of his nipples, and your toes between his thighs.

Nick jumped, snorting, “What the hell? Did you pour water all over yourself?”

“Nick, you know I get cold easy. It’s not my fault.” Your words were muffled by his skin and he kissed the top of your head as he pushed his body closer to yours, twisting to blanket your lower half with his own lower half. You were aware that a subtle shift would turn the situation sexual, but you didn’t dare make the shift. Nick was finally being sweet on you, instead of lusting after you. He was helping you. You were going to take his help and, hopefully, not freeze to death before the morning so you could get back to New York.

Nick’s breathing was just about to even out, his body getting heavier as sleep came for him again, so you spoke, “We’re not going to talk about what happened a couple of months ago, are we?” You regretted speaking when Nick stiffened and cleared his throat.

“Talk about what?”

“How a child psychopath shot you, you told Gil you’re his Dad, and we had sex.” You knew that when Nick could leave you to become an icicle version of your detective self but you needed to clear the air. And what better way to clear the air then with Nick laying on top of you in nothing but a pair of black boxers? Nick coughed and his arms tightened around you.

“How about we not talk about that right now?” But you couldn’t let it go. You liked Nick as more than a Heat Fuck. You liked Nick enough that you wondered if he was your True Mate or not. He could be because your heats were always in sync and his body slotted with yours perfectly and he warmed you to the bone even if he was giving you the cold shoulder.

Very softly, you spoke, “You could have died, Nick.” There was a lot of meaning in just five words. You were saying that you were worried, that you had nightmares where Nick died, nightmares where the kid’s aim was better and he didn’t escape with just a bruise and a son who knew he was his son. Nick picked up on that, his lips gently pressing to your hair once more before he heaved a sigh out of his chest. You could almost picture his eyebrows tumbling toward his eyes, furrowing with his struggle to voice his thoughts coherently.

“You could die everyday.” And that’s all you needed because it was Nick repeating your worries back to you, kissing your hair and what skin he could reach. It was Nick telling you that you’d talk later, to sleep, that he would be there for you.

All in four words.

When you fell back to sleep it was more like being awake, being warm and swaddled by a body belonging to a man willing to risk his life for yours. It was nothing like the cold sleep before that night, the cold sleep that took over your world the moment the kid pulled the trigger and the vest caught the bullet.


End file.
